Unknown Soldier
by x3kb
Summary: Alexandria Rider is sixteen and fighting for her life. After her father's death she is approached,by MI6, but also by Scorpia, who is doing their best to finish a job started over thirty years ago...destroying what's left of the Rider family.
1. Prologue: And We All Fall Down

Disclaimer: Listen closely 'cause I'm only doing it once and I really don't have much to be sued for, as I am but a lowly high school student with no job to speak of. I do not own the Alex Rider series. Anything that looks familiar is not mine. I do, however own Alexandria Rider and Dean Andrews (although his description belongs Jensen Ackles). Thank you, and don't forget to review!

* * *

**ArararARararaR**

The darkness was surrounding her. Everywhere she looked, the shadows prevailed. Whether it was a tree branch in the shape of a claw, or a simple, yet frighteningly enlarged, rat (she hated rats with the passion of a thousand burning suns), the night was getting to her ways it never had before. She'd been having one of those feelings. Those gut instincts that a girl just can't ignore, one of those 'hair-sticking-up-on-the-back-of-your-neck-oh-_shit_-look-out!' feelings. It was just one of those nights.

She was being followed.

She shivered. _'This sucks,'_ she thought. _'I _so_ did not sign up for this, I'm not even getting _paid_' _

She sighed, and decided to go for a classic feint, reaching down to tie her shoe, just in time to hear the hammer of the nine millimeter semiautomatic click into place as it was pressed against the back of her neck. She froze, slowly sliding the pocket knife out of her sock and into her sleeve. _'Well, isn't this just peachy.' _

"Don't move." A deep voice spoke quietly, a little cocky, she thought. "Don't make a sound." The gun pressed a little more into the soft flesh of her neck, the cool metal soothing the heated skin. She could feel slow beads of moisture drip from her hairline and onto her forehead.

"Stand up," the voice spoke again. "Nice and slow, Alex," still too cocky in her opinion. "Nice and slow."

The pocket knife slipped slightly from her sleeve, and flipped open with a quiet _snick_, which she quickly disguised.

"Nice and slow, yeah?" she said, just a little cheeky, moving as slowly as she possibly could. The .9 mm pressed into her flesh again.

"Don't get smart with me, Rider," the voice intoned rather threateningly. "Now start moving forward, slowly, and maybe I won't have to shoot you now."

'_I'd really rather not.' _she thought. _'Eh, what the hell?'_

"I'd really rather not." she said aloud.

"Have it your way, then."

A shot rang out.

The darkness surrounded her once more.

**ArararARararaR**

* * *

Please excuse the shortness…'tis just a prologue. 


	2. Had Enough

-1Thanks to those two people who reviewed...could use some more. Please.

A/N: I had to edit this chapter a bit, 'cause I realized that I had Dean moving to London when he was twelve, yet I had him and Ali go through "diaper changes and bath-times" together. hmm. and I just did some general revising here and there, give and take, that sort of thing.

* * *

_You had to have it all,_

_Well, have you had enough?_

_You greedy little bastard,_

_You will get what you deserve._

_When all is said and done,_

_I will be the one,_

_To leave you in your misery _

_And hate what you've become._

Had Enough

-Breaking Benjamin-

* * *

ArarARaraR

_**Two months earlier…**_

Alex Rider slowly sipped her drink, intently studying the boy sitting before her.

At sixteen years old, Dean Jonathan Andrews was one of the most adorable guys she had ever met. He was American, though there was a slight British taint to his accent. He stood at six-foot-one, was well built with muscles that were visible but not bulging, with sandy-blond hair spiked neatly at a slight angle, pointing towards the right. He had full pink lips, a light surfer's tan, and the most gorgeous jade eyes imaginable. Since Dean had moved to London when he was twelve he had been one of the only true friends Alex had, and she certainly wouldn't trade him for the world. The two friends had been through everything from school shopping and old lady cheek pinching, to relationships and sex, well not together, of course. But they'd _talked_ about it. A lot. They were teenagers, after all.

He caught her gaze. "What?" he laughed. He had an amazing laugh. It was one of those laughs that lit up a room. It turned people's heads, made them look twice. It could make a person feel better in the most inappropriate of circumstances. She loved his laugh.

"

Lexi, why, exactly, are you staring at me like I've grown another head?"

She smiled. He was the only who called her 'Lexi'. He was the only one who could make her heart race with anxiousness or desire, or her knees weak with anticipation. He was the only one who could make her hands tremble with nervousness or her face flush with embarrassment. He was the only one could make her smile in a way that made her eyes sparkle with life, or make her face glow with happiness.

It also seemed that he was the only one to make her realize things she never would have even thought about before. Things like life, and the future. Things like falling in love, and marriage. Things like having children and what it was going to be like to be a mother. He made her think about how hard her father had worked to raise her, how loving he had been, how he and Dean were so similar. Dean made her think about a life after school, after she ripped the Secret Intelligence Service's claws from her, and how she wanted _him_ in it with her.

And it was there, sitting in front of the small Bluebird Café, not to far from Liverpool Street, with the afternoon lunch crowd lining out the door for their latte-and-scone runs, the sun shining in her face, and Dean sitting in front of her staring at her like she was completely insane, that Alexandria Elizabeth Rider fully realized that she was in love with her best friend and the implications of that statement.

The _full_ implications.

'_Oh, crap.' _She couldn't be in love. Being in love was _not _safe. Not for a Rider. Love got people kidnapped, tortured, shot at, _killed._ She sighed. But why not? It wasn't as though she was as notorious as her father. Not yet, anyway.

"Alex, you're starting to scare me." Dean said, his teasing tone not hiding the concern in his eyes.

"Huh?" she blinked. "I'm sorry De, what were you saying?" she asked, a little dazed.

Dean sighed. "I wasn't _saying _anything, 'Lex, you were just staring at me." he said, exasperated with his friend. All she seemed to do lately was space out.

"Oh," Alex blushed. "Sorry 'bout that."

Dean smiled. Alex was adorable when she blushed. Hell, everything the girl did was adorable. He looked at her, the soft smile still on his lips.

He watched as her blond hair glimmered in the sunlight, the natural light, almost unnoticeable, red highlights shimmering through. He watched as her dark blue eyes lifted, the silver-gray iota's glittering as they locked with his. Those were eyes you could lost in, the kind of eyes that got big and round and wet and made you give in to whatever she asked for. "Puppy-dog eyes" Mr. Rider had called them. Her mother's eyes. She was beautiful. Her high cheekbones still had a hint of her earlier embarrassment, a light pink that set off the sparkle in her eyes. Dean sighed again, as his thoughts turned to those of the inevitable future. One he wanted Ali in.

He was in love with his best friend.

"Alright, who's staring now?" Alex laughed.

Dean blinked and looked away. Alex simply laughed again, making Dean look back at her and smile. Alex rarely laughed anymore. Not since her dad and Jack.

Alex seemed to be having the same line of thought as her laugh, and subsequently, her smile, faded. She sighed and looked away. The way her eyes clouded over only put more attention on the dark smudges just beneath them, not to mention the paleness of her skin and the worry lines on her face. She looked old, she knew.

Alex snorted slightly. She felt old.

Ali thought over her present circumstances. She and her father, Alex Rider, had been on summer holiday in Venice, Italy with their long-time housekeeper/babysitter, Jack Starbright. Jack had been Alex's housekeeper when he lived with his uncle, Ian Rider, and later, when Ian died, his guardian. She had come back to work for Alex when she found out he'd had a daughter and her mother had run out on them.

Wait, maybe a little back story would help? She sighed. Start at the beginning? Okay.

Alex had been worked for MI6 when he was only fourteen. He'd saved the world from infamous bad guys such as Herod Sayle, Dr. Grief, General Sarov (which had been particularly traumatic from what she'd heard), Damien Cray, Julia Rothman, and Nikolai Drevin, as well as several more. After a run in with a brutal assassination organization run by the evil witch that called herself a woman, Mrs. Rothman, he had vowed to never to work for them again.

The organization was called Scorpia, which stood for Sabotage, Corruption, Intelligence, and Assassination. They had tricked Alex into thinking that his father had been an assassin and that MI6 had been the ones to shoot him in the back. They had instructed him to kill Mrs. Jones, the assistant director of Special Operations. That's where their plan went wrong. Alex couldn't do it, and Mr. Blunt, the head of Special Operations, had taken it upon himself to turn the plan around, recruiting Alex to do his dirty work once more.

Alex had taken down the head of Scorpia and destroyed their plans to kill thousands of schoolchildren in London, himself included.

Scorpia retaliated by putting a bullet in his chest.

"_Scorpia never forgives, Scorpia never forgets."_

It was then that Alex decided he was done spying. Of course it didn't last long, but after one long and tedious mission for the CIA, involving the psychopath Nikolai Drevin, he decided he was going to finish school and then _maybe _he'd think about the offer to join MI6 legitimately.

It was when he was nineteen and still in college that he decided to take the Services up on their offer. Alex Rider was trained and educated and officially a spy for Military Intelligence.

It was while he was still in training, and in college, that he'd met and fallen in love with Elizabeth Jacobs, who was not all that she seemed to be. Eight months and twenty-eight days after she had expressed her joy at having Alex's child, she rather ungracefully bowed out of his life, leaving Alex to care for his newborn daughter alone.

It was then that he thought it was finally time to call on Jack, who was still living in London, near Ian's home which now belonged to Alex. Jack more than agreed to help care for little Alexandria, and they had become a close knit family.

It was sixteen years later, on a trip to Venice for Ali's birthday, that their lives went to hell.

Alex may have survived the sniper at fourteen, but he was never taken off the organization's hit-list after Scorpia had learned his status of 'still-breathing'.

It was in the streets of Venice that he noticed the gleaming silver scorpion, and it was in the streets of Venice, trying to protect his sixteen-year-old daughter that Alex Rider was finally defeated in cold blood. Several people had been killed or injured in the cross fire, one of the assassins had fired wildly through the crowds hoping to cause enough panic so the other could get an easier shot at Alex. Their plan had not only succeeded in that regard, but also in causing other civilian deaths around the city. Jack had been one of those killed.

Ali hadn't been the same since that fateful day in June when the people she loved the most had been so cruelly taken from her.

Dean sighed inwardly and placed a hand lightly on top of Alex's, giving her a reassuring smile when she looked up.

Alex sighed softly, turning her hand in Dean's and squeezing gently, looking anywhere but in his eyes.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore." she said, opening up a little. "I mean, I'm sure I've got obscene amounts of cash coming from some invisible source or another, and I certainly,_ thankfully_, wasn't forced into the system, but…" she trailed off, still looking rather forlorn.

She just couldn't deal with it anymore. Life was starting to settle, a jaded and disillusioned version of life, but life nonetheless.

"I'll be blunt here. You just lost your family, Lexi," Dean said firmly, "And I think as a hormonal, confused, sixteen-year old, you have the right to not know what to do. Hell, _I_ don't even know what to do these days."

She smiled slightly in thanks. The boy had the most inappropriate humor she had ever heard. He smiled back, amusement glinting in his eyes. He knew it, too.

"So, how's the arm?" he asked.

"Oh, it's alright." she looked down and inspected the small scar that reminded her daily of her current situation. "The doctor said the bullet went straight through, a clean break, the cast came off earlier today."

Alex was another 'caught-in-the-crossfire-person.' She was just a little luckier than most.

Luck seemed to follow her around, really, especially since she had ended up in the position her father had been in when he was about her age. MI6 had approached, and she had been blackmailed. Two missions in less than a month. With a bloody broken arm.

And she still had the bruises to prove it. Being a spy was not fun at all…well, maybe sometimes, like when you mouth off to the bad guys (and then getting your ass kicked for it, but at least you get the pleasure of _knowing _you pissed them off), but no one's supposed to know that.

A shadow crossed to, and slowed at, their table. Dean looked up, a pleasantly polite expression on his face, while Ali tensed, poised and ready for anything. She had been rather jumpy lately.

"That happy to see me?" a teasing voice said.

Alex looked up, startled, to see Tom Harris' face.

"Uncle Tom!" she exclaimed, more than relieved. She had thought it was either a) someone coming to kill her for some reason, or b) a representative from MI6 come to send her out to _get_ killed for some reason.

"Hello, my dear." Tom said, laughing slightly as his goddaughter launched herself at him.

Tom Harris had been the original Alex Rider's best friend throughout school, and for the past 26 years or so. And those years had been kind. Tom was still the short, dark, and handsome man he'd been at the age of fourteen. He stood at around five-foot-nine these days, with the same spiky black hair and the same gorgeous smile. The only thing that had truly changed were his eyes, which were still their bright blue, but had been darkened with age and sights that most grown men don't have the courage to face. He, too, had seen those horrible sights, he, too, knew the life of a spy.

"Ali," he said, his voice soft. "Did you miss me?"

"Always," Alex smiled back at him, a true smile that lit up her eyes. "I've been waiting all day for you, you know." she continued, trying, and failing, to look indignant at having been made to wait so long.

Tom laughed slightly, sharing a knowing look with Dean. What Alex had meant to say was, 'I've been worried sick sitting here, just waiting to hear the news that you're dead.'

"Well, I am so sorry to keep you waiting, your Majesty." Tom said jokingly, tipping his head forward and sweeping his arm into a bow.

Dean just smiled with a great affection as he watched the two interact. Tom was the only family Alex had left, and he knew they loved each other dearly.

Alex smiled again, a light in her eye. "You are forgiven, good Sir." she said as she patted her godfather gently on the head. "Just try to be punctual next time, hmm?"

Tom laughed again as he took the open seat at the table. "I shall try, Mi'lady."

"Now, have you two been enjoying yourselves on this fine day?" he asked, looking back and forth between the two friends. "A day when the sun actually shows its cowardly face in London?"

"I believe we are, Mr. Harris." Dean said, as Alex was currently busy, trying to put the whipped topping from her cappuccino into Tom's dark hair. He smirked and allowed his eyes to wonder over to her, hoping Tom would follow. He did…Just in time to take a glop of whipped cream in the eye.

Alex burst out laughing and Dean followed her lead shortly after. The diners in the tables around them were looking around for the source of the noise. Some shook their heads when they spotted them, muttering about disruptive teenagers, and others smiled with amusement at Tom's plight.

Tom sat still, a grimace on his face, his eyes closed, as the whipped cream steadily made its way down his face. Completely straight faced, he took a napkin off the table and slowly wiped the white trail away.

"Now then," he said, his expression one of pure composure, while Alex's was one of pure angelic innocence that anybody a mile away could see through. "Ali, Mary wants you to know that you are more than welcomed to stay with us, should that house get too big and that agent get too annoying."

Alex's stifled giggles quieted and turned to a soft smile as she looked down at the table.

"Thanks, Tom." she said sincerely. She had been living in the house she had been born in, her father's, with an MI6 operative. They hadn't wanted to move her anywhere in case they needed her immediately, so they had placed her with some half-witted agent who couldn't, or wouldn't, even cook. She had someone to live with, some sort of protection, but other than that she took care of herself. She cooked and cleaned and made sure the house was taken care of while the agent assigned to watch her did just that, watched. It was nice to have somewhere to escape to.

"You know you're welcome anytime." Tom said, smiling. "Mary does love having another girl in the house. She has no one to gossip with."

Mary was Tom's wife of about seven years. She couldn't have children of her own. She had miscarried about four years ago, they told her it was unlikely that she would be able to conceive again, and she loved having any age of children around the house, especially girls.

Alex smiled at her godfather. She loved Tom. He had a hand in raising her, had helped her with a lot of the problems she felt she couldn't go to her father with. He was the first she had told when MI6 approached her after her father's death. Tom had sat her down and explained everything MI6 had done to her father, what kinds of missions they had sent him on, and what they would probably do to her. He was the only person, besides Dean, she had left in her small family.

Tom smiled back at her and then gave a sideways glance to Dean.

"Does she do this often?" he said out of the side of his mouth.

"Staring? She's been doing it all day." Dean replied, quirking his eyebrows at his friend, who was staring just over Tom's shoulder, a look of horror forming in her eyes.

Dean's expression turned from one of teasing to one of concern.

"Lexi?" he said, question in her voice. She didn't answer, but her eyes widened a bit more and her hand started moving, a waving motion, toward her godfather. The other had wandered to Dean's shirt sleeve. He was worried now. "Lex, what's wrong?"

Alex couldn't break her eyes away from the dark figure that seemed to be staring right back at her.

The figure was sat atop the roof of the apartment building across the busy street. His head went back and forth from the scope of his Ruger .22 to the outside patio of the cafe. It was as he adjusted the Slide Focus scope that Alex finally snapped out of her horrified stupor.

"Tom!" she exclaimed, her hand moving faster, a nervous tick, as she watched the sniper prepare to line up his shot. She pointed over her godfather's shoulder and watched as he turned. The sniper now had his eye to the scope and his finger tightening on the trigger.

Tom's bright blue eyes widened. "_Alex, get down!_"

ArarARaraR

* * *

Oops…review. 


	3. Makes Me Wonder

**General Disclaimer (for all chapters):** I'm only repeating it once: I own nothing you recognize. Anthony Horowitz is the master mind behind Alex Rider the boy. Don't sue. Thanks.

**Hzuki:** I know..poor Alex. He lived a good life...he was getting old anyway. :) 3

**Allison and Anonymous-chic:** I'm glad you guys like it! Thanks for the positive thoughts, cookies to you both, keep reviewing!

* * *

_It only hurts just once,_

_They're only broken bones,_

_Hide the hate inside._

Unknown Soldier

_-_Breaking Benjamin-

* * *

Previously: 

"_Tom!" she exclaimed, her hand moving faster, a nervous tick, as she watched the sniper prepare to line up his shot. She pointed over her godfather's shoulder and watched as he turned. The sniper now had his eye to the scope and his finger tightening on the trigger._

_Tom's bright blue eyes widened. _"Alex, get down!"

**ArarARaraR**

Alex's heart raced as she grabbed for Dean's hand and yanked his shocked form under the metal café table.

Chaos was ensuing. The screams began at the tables directly next to them shortly after the first shot missed its target, a metallic _'ping' _ringing through the air as the bullet bypassed Tom's heart and went straight through the chair he had ever so quickly vacated.

The running began the instant the second shot hit the large pink and yellow painted glass window of the small Bluebird Café. The fragile pane shattered, the glass spraying over panicked pedestrians, causing more overall panic.

Once Alex was sure Tom was under the table with them she looked over at Dean. The boy was pale, his green eyes round and glazed, and his hand shook in hers. She needed to say something to him, she needed to tell him it was going to be okay. She needed him to be calm, she needed him not to act out rashly and get himself killed. She just needed him. She needed to…

"_Move!_"

Tom's voice cut through her thoughts, forcing her extensive military training into immediate and unconscious action, reminding her that she did indeed have training for situations like this. She shielded her head with her arms, motioning for Dean to do the same, as a man that looked suspiciously like an MI6 agent, with his tall, dark, and intimidating appearance(dark sunglasses, dark suit, military-type boots, the faint outlines of weapons and protection under his jacket and shirt that were practically invisible to the untrained eye…), moved behind her and Dean, his body protecting both of the smaller teens'.

The bullets still hailed down upon them and people were still running for cover. Tom ran ahead, shielding his head and ducking behind a hefty black SUV that was currently being pelted by the sniper. The heated metal flew into, and bounced off of, the car's tough bullet-proof exterior with small abrupt '_ping_s', leaving little crater-like dents in their wake.

The agent behind them gasped, grunted, and fell backward slightly as a bullet whizzed past Alex's head and struck him in the chest as he pushed her out of harm's way. He pulled himself into some semblance of balance by latching onto Alex's and Dean's shirts, making sure they remained protected as another bullet pushed him back again. The second one that would've gone straight through Alex's skull, considering the angle she was standing at, half her body of the right of the agent's, the other hunched over the left side, making sure Dean stayed down.

The dark-haired man pushed through the storm of miniature missiles, herding them toward the open doors of the SUV, climbing in after Dean and Alex while Tom climbed in the front passenger seat. The driver sped off quickly, before they had even managed to shut the doors, the shots following them all the while. The driver took a sharp right at the end of the street, headed towards Liverpool street and the Royal and General bank.

Alex looked immediately to her right at the agent leaning against the door.

The man was gasping, sweat beading on his forehead, as he forced his arms to cooperate in order to get his suit jacket off. He gasped again as he strained and pulled at the jacket, tightening the injured muscles in his chest, finally getting it off. He began pulling at the buttons on his shirt, trembling fingers unable to grasp the soft fabric.

"Are you alright?" Alex asked the agent quietly, yet frantically.

He stopped, looking at her with _'what do you think' _kind of look. He nodded vaguely anyway, disregarding the rather tactless question.

Rule number one: Never ask an agent how they feel. You'll never get a straight or honest answer. She shook her head.

"Here," Alex said, moving toward him, reaching out to help. "Are you sure you're all right? That hit pretty hard, didn't it?" The agent nodded again, studying her face, as though questioning her ability to handle their present circumstances.

Well, she felt that she was quite calm for the situation she happened to be facing at the moment. Being shot at, watching an agent take not one, but _two_ bullets for her, knowing her best friend was about to be asked to sign the Official Secrets Act. It was turning out to be a bright, sunshiny day.

Speaking of best friends…Alex looked behind her as she cautiously unbuttoned the agent's shirt, monitoring the carefully hidden winces and the poorly muffled hisses of pain. _Men,_ she thought, _always trying to be tough_. Except Dean, whose face was still white, his eyes still wide, though a little more clear. He was staring at her, incredulous, his eyes clearly asking how the hell she could be so calm when she was attending to a man that had just been shot in the chest. _Twice, _she reminded herself. _For you._

_(Note to self: thank agent for basically dying for you.)_

The answer: Kevlar. All agents wore it in any type of shoot-out situation. The last button came free, exposing the black vest, which had two small indents in it. One was directly over the agent's heart. _He _did _die for me. _Her hands shook somewhat at the thought. She pulled a pair of tweezers from her bag (they had served her well during her last mission, considering their razor sharp tips and flexible handles, perfect for picking the locks on cells) and studied the first hole.

She found a position for the tweezers that would cause the least pain, then carefully proceeded to pull the bullet that would have ended the man's life free, holding it up to her face at eye level for a second, examining the way the tip was flattened. She used the tweezers to delicately place it in the agent's pocket, patting it slightly so he knew where it was. He inclined his head toward her as she pulled out the second bullet, it had lodged in the lower right, in between the agent's ribs, and placed it in his other pocket. She patted the pocket again to indicate that she was finished, and helped the agent to sit up as high as he could against the window so she could pull the shirt from his shoulders.

Ali had given the agent the bullets (making sure she didn't touch them in case their were finger-prints), with hopes that maybe the labs could find out what kind of gun they had come from and if they could perhaps trace the buyer, whether it be a legal or black market sale.

She worked to free the button-up lightly from the man's arms, wincing as he grunted, and reached around to undo the Velcro on the vest. Alex gently pulled the Kevlar over his head and placed it on the floor by his feet.

"What's your name," she asked quietly, realizing she had been referring to the man who had just saved her life as 'the agent' or 'the man'. Even if it was only in her head.

She was also resolutely ignoring Dean, who was still staring at her with that look, which had turned questioning at her skill. She was also ignoring Tom, who was smiling lightly at her mother-henning, despite the fact that it was bullet wounds she was fussing over. Not to mention the driver, who hadn't spoken a word to anyone but Tom. He kept looking back though, the worry in his eyes, worry for his partner, badly concealed behind the hard controlling of emotions.

"Jake Reed." the injured agent said quietly, voice strained. "And you are Alex Rider." It wasn't a question.

Alex smiled a bit as she pulled at the black t-shirt Jake wore, pulling it over his head as gently as she could manage. Everyone seemed to know her, whether it was through her father or by some off-hand account of her previous adventures that came out of Special Operations.

Ali winced in sympathy as she inspected the damage to the man's chest. The areas that had been hit were light, transparent black colors, and would be completely dark in an hour or two. There were tinges of purple around the edges, almost connecting in a diagonal line, from left shoulder to right hip. That was going to hurt like a _bitch_ in the morning. Well, more than it already did. Especially when the injured skin started to stiffen and the muscles tightened.

"Well, Agent Reed, you most certainly have some bruising…" she probed the black and purple areas, searching for breaks. She felt a couple of slight indents along the bottom most right ribs, but it didn't seem serious. "…and most likely a cracked rib or two. You might want to get those checked out and taped up."

Jake sighed, laughing lightly as he exhaled. He was lucky to be alive, he knew, lucky to have had time to get his vest on before he jumped out of the still-moving vehicle. He had been frantic, worried even, for the life of the girl that was attending to him. He had known her father, known him well. The man had saved his life. Jake had been devastated to hear that Alex Rider had finally been gunned down, that Scorpia had finally gotten their revenge after all.

"A good agent, a good man, a good father." Those were the words he'd heard Agent Tom Harris say at Alex's funeral, as he'd watched the girl in font of him try, and fail, to hold back silent, stoic tears for her father.

"'S happened before. No stranger to pain and guns, eh?" Jake raised an eyebrow at the white scar on Alex's right arm, left from the stray bullet in Italy so many months ago. It stood out starkly against her tanned skin, a trifling, circular chunk of pink and white scar tissue.

Alex glanced down as Jake made the comment, grimacing a bit as she caught sight of the scar he referred to, the constant reminder that she had no family but Tom anymore.

She smirked suddenly, catching the mischievous glint of Jake's eyes.

"Of course not, Agent. It happens to the best of us. No pain, no gain, right?"

**ArarARaraR**

The SUV screeched to a halt along side the curb in front of the Royal and General, causing several people to look in their direction for the source of the disturbance. There were people headed in and out of the 'bank' at every few seconds. Some really did believe it was just a bank, others Ali could recognize as agents.

_I wonder if the agents use the actual bank part, too…_ The random thought trickled across her consciousness as she followed Dean in climbing out of the car, after bidding farewells to Jake and the driver, who were headed for the hospital to get Jake's ribs x-rayed and taped. _They _do_ need some place to cash their pay checks, right?_

She shook her head to herself. It was the shock. Crazy thoughts came with shock, right?

**------**

Tom held the door for the two teenagers, still looking remarkably calm. It seemed like it was only his training that was holding him together at this point. Even so, his face was a little pale, and his hand shook, almost imperceptibly, on the door.

He looked over at Ali and Dean. Ali was shaking her head about something, and her eyes still a bit wider than normal, but she, too, looked to be fairly calm on the outside.

Dean, however, looked bad. His normally tanned face was ashen, and his limbs trembled in leftover fear and adrenalin. He eyes had been wide, yet clear, as he had watched Ali work in the car, but they had returned to their glazed state, it seemed. The boy was clearly in shock.

Tom nodded to the receptionist as they passed her desk and made their way toward the elevators. He pressed the button that would take them up and waited, rather impatiently, for the lift. He glanced back at the kids again to see that Ali had taken Dean's hand in hers and was looking at him worriedly. He smiled to himself. _She likes him_.

**------**

Ali was starting to worry. Like, seriously. Dean hadn't said a word, he was unnaturally pale, his wide eyes were staring out at nothing, and his hand shook violently in hers. He was in shock, she thought, as the elevator finally dinged its arrival. She tugged on Dean's hand, making sure he was completely within the tiny compartment before the doors closed.

Alex watched as Tom pressed the button that would take them up to the sixteenth floor, watching the mirror wall as it watched them, searching for the metal of a knife or a gun.

When the elevator deemed them unarmed, it dropped them just down the hall from Mr. Blunt's office. They walked past nondescript walls that held plain doors and plain name plates. Alex resolutely averted her eyes as they passed one plate that still held the name Alex Rider. They stopped in front of Blunt's door, waiting as Tom knocked.

"Come in." a muffled voice intoned from somewhere beyond the wooden entrance.

Tom paused, a hand on the door knob, and looked at Ali. He was saying _'you better not get me fired.' _Alex had some unresolved issues with Alan Blunt.

She simply raised an eyebrow and nodded her head toward the door, '_open it already.'_

Tom shook his head but opened the door anyway, stepping aside to let Alex and Dean in before him.

Ali held tight to Dean's hand as she stepped into the hated office that belonged to the head of Special Operations. She took a deep breath as she caught sight of Mrs. Jones, badly cut hair going gray, and still sucking on those peppermints. She exhaled as her eyes settled on the grim faced Alan Blunt, who was staring at her as though he was looking at a particularly gruesome murder scene…or something like that, anyway.

This was _not_ going to be pleasant.

**ArarARaraR**

The meeting had started out well enough. Mrs. Jones went through the pleasantries as best she could under the circumstances, and Mr. Blunt kept quiet. Mrs. Jones explained that there had been sightings of Scorpia operatives in London, Mr. Blunt kept quiet. Mrs. Jones explained the Official Secrets Act to Dean and had him sign it, Mr. Blunt kept quiet. Mrs. Jones asked Tom to leave the room, as they 'had some things to discuss with the children.' Of course they were children, until they wanted to get her killed. Mr. Blunt was still staying oddly silent.

It was as Alex was finally relaxing that the plain, gray man just _had_ to open his mouth.

"Alexandria, Scorpia is not finished exacting its revenge on your family."

_No, really?!_ She couldn't have guessed. The bastards had killed her grandparents, her great uncle, her housekeeper/friend, and her father. Now they were after her. She had already figured that out and she didn't need some gray looking ass of an MI6 head to tell it to her.

Alex sighed, frustrated, so much for relaxing. Blunt just seemed to have that effect on her.

"_And_…" she said, urging him to continue rather impatiently.

"And, we need to stop them." he stated flatly.

"You mean you want _me _to stop them. Potentially getting myself killed in the process." she stated, just as flatly.

Blunt raised an eyebrow, but nodded anyway. "Scorpia must end, once and for all. The organization is not doing very well as it is. They have been losing assassins, failing missions. The Training and Assessment Center on Malagosto has no more new students. Their council is breaking apart. It would be all too easy to infiltrate quietly and break them apart a little more." he said.

"So why don't you do it yourselves? They want my head on a platter, remember?" she asked the questions with incredulity in her eyes and anger in her voice.

"They are also desperate for resources." Mrs. Jones said. Alex turned her head towards her only to find her staring at Dean, an odd look on her wrinkled face. Alex look at him, only to see him staring at _her_, that questioning look back in his eyes, a look of disbelief on his face.

Ali rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. She'd explain later. If there was a later.

"No matter how badly it would contradict their current actions, they would rather have you truly wish to serve them than to kill you. They need all the help they can get." Mrs. Jones continued, tearing her eyes away from Dean and glancing back at Ali.

Blunt picked it up: "Invisible Sword was Scorpia's last attempt on London, when your father was fourteen, over twenty years ago. They feel it is high time for another operation, but the don't have the means to support it."

"They may have the money, but they don't have the people to carry out the attack. They have, however, begun to put the operation into tentative action. The plans that they have at the moment lead to something called the Unknown Soldier." Mrs. Jones said. Alex hated it when they went back and forth like this. It was like trying to follow a particularly slow tennis match.

"The Unknown Soldier comprises of several groups of anonymous assassins. They hope that by using several different people, we will not be able to track them, thus creating the 'Unknown Soldier'. These groups will create, maintain, and launch several attacks in every area of London. The attacks will target government facilities, schools, large business, and out door dining patios, such as the one you were found at today." Blunt this time.

Mrs. Jones: "We believe that this afternoon's attack may only be the beginning, a test of some sort, to see if they could truly pull it off. They did not stop shooting after you left the premises. Twelve people were killed, seventeen were injured." The café had been busy that afternoon, it was a favorite of the city, a good tourist sight in the heart of London.

"And get me out of the way in the process, a two-for-one deal?" Alex suggested. Dean, who had moved his shocked gaze to his shoes, looked up at this, staring at her again.

Mr. Blunt inclined his head. "It is a definite possibility. We need an agent to infiltrate as soon as possible, and you seem to be the one they want the most, and the one that Carr will most likely believe." As he spoke, he lifted a file off his otherwise spotless desk and handed it to Alex.

"Mr. Carr has a 'thing' for younger women." Mrs. Jones said, the distaste in her voice clearly heard.

The file that had been handed to Alex held as much information on Operation Unknown Soldier as was available, as well as surveillance photos and information on this Carr person.

Michael Carr was Scorpia's current leader, he had come into power directly after Julia Rothman's successor, Elijah Baker retired from the assassin business. Despite his young age, he was one of the most powerful students Scorpia had had in years. Carr was Australian, but a British citizen. He was in his early twenties, with a handsome face and a muscular body. He had dark brown, almost black, hair that fell in a crew cut, military style. His deep hazel eyes were serious, and scary looking. The pictures showed him shooting rifles on the island of Malagosto, or making deals with fellow contract killers. He had strength, skill, and mean looking face. He wasn't afraid to kill, and he had defected from MI6 only a year after joined, deciding that they didn't kill enough for his liking. That was when he was nineteen. He was now twenty-one. A bit too old for her, certainly too evil, but _definitely_ cute.

Alex smirked to herself. She could get used to this op.

"What do you need me to do?"

**ArarARaraR**

* * *

**A/N:** I am going on vacation, I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll try and write the next chapter while I'm there. Either way it'll probably be awhile before I update, so review. Por favor y gracias. 


	4. I Get It

_You better run like the devil,_

_'Cause they're never gonna leave you alone!_

_You better hide up in the alley,_

_'Cause they're never gonna find you a home!_

House of Wolves

-My Chemical Romance

Sorry for the wait and that it's so short! Between school starting, vacation, and work I've been totally screwed for like, the last month. x3

* * *

**ArarARaraR**

By the time Blunt and Jones were finished outlining their plan and the details of it, Alex was wondering how the hell they expected her to infiltrate Scorpia, make best friends with its leader, and then bring the whole organization down when this Carr guy apparently had it on good authority that she wanted them all dead.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." Was all Blunt had to say.

Yeah, right. She was good, but she was not _that_ good.

She wondered if it was too late to back out.

Of course, Blunt seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, for hard lines creased his forehead as he frowned and glared at her.

'_Okay.' _she thought. _'Moving on.'_

"So what about these attacks around London?" Alex asked. "What's going on with that?"

"The attacks will involve more than just snipers," Mrs. Jones explained. "They will have noticed by now that we check all medicines admitted to schoolchildren, so no more nanotechnology in the blood, but there are other plans that are being implemented.

"Scorpia is desperate to exact its revenge after so many years, especially with organization failing as it now is. They will attack figureheads such as the Head of Special Operations," she tilted her head at Mr. Blunt, her badly cut black bob falling into her face. "through whatever means they can smuggle in. Poisons, maybe even the same nanoshells that were used twenty years ago. For others, their orders will be to cause 'accidents'."

"'Accidents?'" Ali questioned warily, starting to wonder if she should've just said no to the psychos and locked herself in her house with the stupid and highly boring MI6 agent 'till it was all over.

"People wreck cars, trains derail, people drown in floods, perish in fires. Things that happen in the news everyday will become means of mass murder." Mr. Blunt said. "People will die and others will think nothing of it because they are just everyday accidents."

There will, however, be those who know what is going on, people who cannot ignore these so-called 'accidents.'" He was getting angry now. Cool. Ali didn't think anyone had ever seen him show any type of emotion. She certainly hadn't. "We cannot sit back and watch a failing assassination organization take over London in attempt to make themselves feel better just because they couldn't kill a fourteen year old boy over twenty five years ago!" Now Blunt was practically yelling, small pink patches were beginning to color his normally pale, gray face.

Alex had to stifle a snort as she glanced over at Dean, who shouldn't actually be there, now that she thought about it. Oh, well. Dean's eyes were wide as he stared at Blunt, his mouth hanging open slightly.

Alex quickly smothered a giggle. For some reason the whole disgustingly dangerous situation was quickly becoming amusing to her.

Mr. Blunt had stopped yelling, and was taking noisy breaths through his nose. He, too, glanced over at Dean, as though just noticing he was there. He leaned over his desk a pressed a button on the intercom, holding it down as it beeped.

"Elizabeth, send in Agent Harris." No 'please', no 'thank you', just a straight command. Ha. Nice guy.

"Right away, sir." came the disembodied voice of Elizabeth Garrett (a.k.a Secretary No. 15 this year).

Tom walked in the door, closing in it quietly behind him. "Yes, sir?"

"I believe it would be a good idea to escort Mr. Andrews home." Blunt said, his voice flat. "There should be a car waiting outside, and an agent sitting in it to make sure that Scorpia makes no more attempts on his life tonight."

Tom nodded, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder as he slipped from his daze and made to protest. "Yes, sir."

Dean looked over at Alex, his eyes clearly screaming that he was not going anywhere without her, while his face read that he wasn't leaving her with these freaks. It was amazing how well they knew each other.

Alex nodded, almost imperceptibly, letting her friend know that she would be fine and that she did, indeed, know what she was doing. Even if it didn't seem like it.

Dean sighed, his expression one of acceptance, but also a hard determination. 'We'll talk later'

Alex tilted her head and smirked at him. 'Whatever.'

Dean shook his head, eyes more alert now, as he turned and left the office with Tom.

"So," Alex said, a fake smile plastered on her face. She felt as though what little remained of her sanity had left the room with Dean. "Where were we?"

The basics were of the mission were this, Alex was to travel to the island, somehow convince Scorpia that she wanted to join them, and then save London. Again. Okay.

Pause for déjà vu moment.

"_How?!_"

That was, once again, the big question.

"Scorpia is likely to believe whatever you tell them at this point." Mrs. Jones said. "They truly do need all the help they can get in this operation."

"So what, I just waltz in and say 'Hey, I used to work for MI6, and after you tried to shoot me and my friends I've decided that I'm ready to help you kill thousands of people?" Alex asked incredulously. "Do you really think that's going to go over well?"

Blunt and Jones exchanged a glance, each looking to the other for the answer. Apparently Alex had stumped them both.

Great, so she was going to go running to an organization that wanted her dead with no story except that, yeah, she wanted to kill half of London. She'd be dead within two seconds. Wow. MI6 was seriously slipping.

"Well," Blunt said slowly. He hesitated for a moment, exchanging another look with Mrs. Jones.

_'Ookay,' _she thought _'maybe they've figured out that should get a real agent for this one...'_

Blunt sighed, sorting through the papers that had littered his pristine desk since Alex had walked in.

Maybe not.

He handed her the folder with the information she would need, saying "You have three days to think about it, don't you?"

Now she knew she should've gone home and locked herself in.

Ali stared at him, jaw hanging open. She closed it. It fell open again. "You're insane." she croaked, looking back and forth between the two Heads. "Both of you."

She was so screwed.

**ArarARaraR**

After her frustrating meeting with the heads of specials operations, Alex headed down to Mr. Smithers' office. Apparently, according to her father, the office and the man himself had gotten interesting over the years. Er...interesting-er. She paused. Or was it 'more interesting?' She shook her head slightly and continued walking. Whateve.

The office was plain looking, a plant in a corner, a painting on the wall. The desk, however, held all sorts of electronical devices, and Alex had no idea what the hell they were...but she did know that they were making funny noises and it was kinda freaking her out.

Smithers himself was a big man, like, seriously. His numerous chins rolled as he spoke and his belly jiggled when he laughed. _'Like a bowl full of jelly.' _Alex thought, the old line of The Night Before Christmas floating through her head. Yeah, she was seriously going mad.

Mr. Smithers was moving now, swiveling around, his chair popping and creaking under his weight, the buttons on his plain bright yellow shirt doing the same.

"Alex, m'dear!" he exclaimed, a smile making its way across his face, his cheeks bulging pleasantly.

"_Jolly Ol' Smithers...He's got the brains, alright, you just have to find it somewhere under the ADD."_

Her father was always making wisecracks like that.

"Hello, Smithers." Alex said politely, the first genuine smile since the shooting crossing her face. "How've you been?"

"Just peachy, absolutely swell!" the fat man exclaimed. He began rooting through his desk, searching under paper piles and through drawers, until finally he came up with…a pack of gum? "Dentine, wonderfully strong if you get the right flavor."

'_Yep, that ADD is rearing its hyperactive head.' _she smiled at the voice that sounded remarkably like her fathers. _'He's only gotten more disorganized over the years, you've gotta watch the mess.'_

"I hear you've got some toys for me?"

"Toys?" Smithers' eyes widened as he looked at her incredulously. "No, no my dear, not toys," he held out the pack of gum towards her, pressing his thumb against the side where the two halves folded together. Instantly, the silver letters on the front began to glow, and , as Smithers turned the pack in his hand, a screen came up on the other side, showing the tech man's smiling face.

Alex's eyes were wide as she stared at the gum pack/camera.

"Quite clever, eh?" Smithers said.

"Yes, yes it is." she laughed.

Alex cocked her head, her brows drawing together, smile still on her lips.

_There was an echo._

She looked around the office quickly, trying to figure out the source of the added sound. Finally, as her eyes reached the desk again, she noticed that the echo was on Mr. Smithers' computer, to which the camera in the gum was transmitting.

Smithers nodded and smiled again as he watched her. "Everything this camera records comes back to the headquarters, and is completely discreet. It is completely print sensitive to those in MI6 only."

He handed her the pack of gum and searched through another desk drawer.

"Ah!" his face lit up. "A classic." he held out a cell phone for her to take.

It was simple, a black slider with silver buttons. It was compact, light, and thin enough that it would be difficult to find, if she put it in the right place.

"I gave your father one of those, many moons ago." The fat man said, reminiscing of his first teenage spy. "The antenna is a dart. Just press 999, aim, and it'll do the rest. It's also print sensitive, all you have to do to contact us is press the pound button."

Alex nodded. "Okay." she half-stood, more than ready to leave for the comfort of her own bed before she was shipped off to an assassination school on some remote island that she had no real desire to visit. "Thanks."

"Ah, wait, we're not quite finished yet," Smithers said, gesturing for her to sit back down.

She sighed heavily, but waited as Smithers moved a few piles of paper to find his intercom. The button made a buzzing noise as his sausage-like fingers pressed down on it. "Victoria, would you bring it in please?"

'_Oh, look a 'please'. I bet she gets a 'thank you' too. At least this one has manners.'_

"Right away, sir."

There was a humming as the couch along the wall separated into two and a third section, holding Victoria, entered up through the floor.

Ali arched an eyebrow, she hadn't seen _that _one before.

"Here you are Mr. Smithers." Victoria said with a polite smile, unfazed, as the third portion of the sofa lowered itself back into the ground.

Mr. Smithers took the small metal box that was offered to him and thanked his assistant enthusiastically as she exited, using the door this time. She simply smiled and continued on her way.

Alex turned her head back toward the desk to see Smithers holding the box and staring at it reverently, his eyes bright.

"This, Alex, is my greatest yet, I think." he said, voice soft. "I've been crafting it specifically for your use, and I'd be very glad to have it back in one piece."

"I'll try my hardest, Mr. Smithers." she said, just as soft.

Smithers studied her for a second, before nodding and slowly opening the box. He reached in and gently pulled out a video iPod.

Alex's eyebrow arched again. His prized invention was an oversized, out of date, iPod?

He seemed to realize what she was thinking for he was quick to explain.

"Now, now, I know what your thinking," he said, "But this iPod is the most innovative that I've tinkered with. It's going to give you a lot of help, so I would treat it kindly.

" If you turn the volume up to one hundred, the special features will be active. If you spin the wheel once, it will take still photographs, unlike your pack of gum. It has a heat sensor, should you be in a situation where stealth is required. It's also a long distance hearing device, for any eavesdropping that may occur. Not only that but if you press fast forward twice, it will spray a gas that you should try and stay away from." He smiled conspiratorially, winking at her. "Pressing rewind twice will issue a bang-flash, so duck and cover if you need to use it."

He smiled again, his apparent liking for conspiracy against the enemy greater than Alex would have thought.

"And, of course, Mr. Blunt has forbidden a gun, which is why , if you press the middle button once, the whole thing will explode."

Alex smiled. Apparently he had a liking for conspiracy against authority as well.

"Toys you say?" Smithers smirked, going back to their original conversation, "no, not toys."

His eyes brightened again.

"Works of technological genius."

**ArarARaraR**


End file.
